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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29891298">Snake in the Grass</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/forthegreatergood/pseuds/forthegreatergood'>forthegreatergood</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mistaken Identity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:26:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,788</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29891298</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/forthegreatergood/pseuds/forthegreatergood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale and Crowley finally get their picnic.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>136</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Snake in the Grass</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>All characters property of Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman, and the respective production and licensing companies.</p>
<p>Thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxyk/pseuds/foxyk">foxyk</a> for betaing!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale closed his eyes and let himself bask in a perfect patch of sunshine, cozy atop a perfectly comfortable blanket, at the midmark of what had so far been a perfectly lovely day.  He hadn’t really expected any less, not with Crowley smirking like the cat that got the cream when he’d held up a proper wicker basket and reminded Aziraphale that he’d been promised a picnic.  </p>
<p>He’d almost forgotten about it, himself--buried under decades of dithering and uncertainty and second guesses.  It had been such a pathetic thing to say instead of “I love you.”</p>
<p>
  <i>Once this thing that will never, ever be over is over, maybe we can do lunch.</i>
</p>
<p>Aziraphale had been ashamed of the words as soon as they’d been out of his mouth.  He’d spent decades trying to hide from the no-longer-disputable fact that Crowley loved him--loved him in a way no demon should have been able, loved him in a way that was so horribly, never-had-been-disputably dangerous--and then Crowley had finally called his bluff over the holy water, and Aziraphale had folded like the proverbial cheap suit.  </p>
<p>It had, in the end, only taken two days between hearing of some smartly-dressed mad lad pulling together a crew to steal holy water and Aziraphale giving in.  Two days of tearing himself in half with fear of what would happen if he did and fear of what would happen if he didn’t, and he’d finally had to accept that the matter of Crowley getting his hands on holy water was, in fact, quite out of Aziraphale’s hands.  The only thing left was whether or not Crowley would get it safely, and Aziraphale hadn’t been able to stand the thought of Crowley venturing into another church.  Not for that, not when Aziraphale could stop that much of it.  </p>
<p>The idea of Crowley mucking about with a font full of holy water while hopping around like a landed fish still brought Aziraphale out in a cold sweat.</p>
<p>But then he’d handed it over, and Crowley had obviously thought there was more to it than just Aziraphale doing him a favor--his poor, unwavering demon, always ready to think better of an angel than was perhaps really deserved--and Aziraphale had choked on it.  He’d wanted, and he’d been afraid, and he’d been afraid of his wanting.  He’d even thought <i>if things were different…</i>, and that was the sort of lovely, wonderful thought that an angel had right before something unspeakably dreadful happened.</p>
<p>And then he’d been watching Crowley drive away into the night in possession of something that could wipe him out of existence in the blink of an eye and a limp platitude instead of reassurance or reciprocation from the being he loved, and Aziraphale had been left to keep choking on it every time Crowley absented himself from the mortal sphere for the next forty years.</p>
<p>Aziraphale sighed and sat up.  He had half a mind to miracle the demon and the glasses he’d returned to the bentley to fetch back onto the blanket.  It hadn’t seemed like such a long way when Crowley had been leading him down the footpath, chattering smugly about the little spot he’d found and the basket he’d packed.  Crowley had been very pleased with himself, right up until he’d found the champagne bottle but not the champagne flutes.</p>
<p>“Do we really need them, my dear?  It’s only the two of us, after all.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t pack the poshest basket you’ve ever seen just to finish it off by swilling straight from the bottle like a pair of bankers, angel.”</p>
<p>Back in a tick, he’d said, and then he’d disappeared into the woods.  Aziraphale had just assumed those long legs would eat up the distance, bring Crowley back to him in mere moments.</p>
<p><i>Maybe he finally came to his senses and left.  Maybe this was all a trick to begin with, a bit of long-delayed revenge for…</i> Aziraphale swallowed.  For everything, really.  Another angel wouldn’t have forgiven him, not for any of it never mind all of it.  How could he expect a demon to?</p>
<p>He took a deep breath and made himself let go of the thought.  He <i>knew</i> Crowley, and Crowley <i>had</i>, because Crowley <i>loved him</i>.  If he’d been able to keep his misplaced faith in Heaven for millennia, he could refrain from doubting a friend who’d never given him cause for five more damned minutes.</p>
<p>Aziraphale folded his coat into a pillow and laid back down.  It was foolish, how out of hand he’d let himself get sometimes.  And why?  Some sneaking suspicion that he’d deserve it, if Crowley did abandon him?  Some thudding, leaden fear that he’d deserved it when Heaven had?  Some drippy, ungrateful bit of disappointment that he’d hoped for more, now that they were both free to do as they wanted?</p>
<p>Aziraphale huffed to himself and banished the flush that wanted to darken his cheeks at the very thought.  It was a lovely day, and a lovely picnic, and a lovely patch of sunshine, and he wasn’t going to spoil it for himself by wondering if Crowley was ever planning to touch him again.  Why angels couldn’t just make themselves be at peace the way they could quiet the occasional skittish human, he was sure he didn’t know.  It was a glaring design flaw, in his opinion.</p>
<p>He’d finally gotten himself relaxed again when he heard the tell-tale hiss of scales on grass.  Aziraphale smiled, picturing Crowley slithering all the way back with a pair flutes in his coils.  No wonder the demon had taken so long--he’d probably torn the bentley apart twice looking for glasses he’d left in his flat and would rather discorporate than suffer the indignity of admitting it.  At least it was a wonderful day for a bit of a stroll, and a pair of glasses were easily miracled if Crowley really insisted they needed them.</p>
<p>Aziraphale waited for the soft hiss to resolve into a pair of footsteps only to feel the tug of a new weight on the blanket instead.  He suppressed the coyness that wanted to creep into his smile; if Crowley didn’t change back, Crowley wouldn’t have to confess that he’d neglected to pack the flutes.  </p>
<p>Well, if Crowley didn’t want to confess, then they could enjoy a nice little nap together and decide what to do about the champagne later.  Maybe they could even wait until evening, share it under the stars, and retire to that cozy-looking little bed and breakfast they’d sped past on the way in.  It looked precisely like the sort of charming establishment that would have absolutely no doubles anywhere in the building, and only one room left besides.</p>
<p>There was a sort of rhythm to the sound of scales on cloth, and Aziraphale almost wanted to reach out and stroke Crowley’s back.  Would Crowley let him?  He’d seemed amenable enough when Aziraphale had taken his hand on the bus ride home from Tadfield, but then, it seemed a bit on the nose, it taking the end of the world for Crowley to want that kind of comfort from him.</p>
<p>And then there was a weight on his arm, and then his belly, and then his chest, and it was all Aziraphale could do not to open his eyes and ruin everything by gaping like an idiot at the serpent coiling quietly on his bosom for a nap in the sun.  Could it really have been as simple as that, all along?  They had enjoyed their picnic, and Crowley had finally calmed down enough to reach for him, and now they could spend the rest of their lives cuddling whenever they pleased?</p>
<p>Aziraphale sighed, contented, and that last bit of tension bled out of his belly.  He folded his hands just over his navel, not quite touching the serpent--no sense risking it, not so soon, not when Crowley had already taken such a plunge--and he felt the coil over his ribs loosen in response.  A teasing, forked tongue flicked gently over the back of his hand, then was gone, and it was all Aziraphale could do not to murmur “Cheek.” at the demon.</p>
<p>It was as blissful as he’d hoped it would be, lying in the sun with Crowley curled safely on his chest.  He could have stayed like that forever, all thought of the bed and breakfast gone now that he had this, and it was all too soon when a loud tromping through the underbrush roused him.  Aziraphale gritted his teeth and prayed for the patience to shoo away some clod without upsetting anything.</p>
<p>“Ah.” Crowley cleared his throat from across the glade. “Something you’ve been meaning to tell me, angel?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale opened his eyes and gave up entirely on not gaping like an idiot.  Crowley, very much man-shaped and very much holding two glasses loosely in his very hand-shaped hand, was very much not curled up on his chest.  His brows were furrowed and his lips quirked in that way they did when he was largely confused but in full expectation of being extremely entertained the moment an explanation offered itself.</p>
<p>Aziraphale looked down at his chest, where a large grass snake was determinedly avoiding his gaze by burying her head deeper into her coils.</p>
<p>“Ah.” Aziraphale pursed his lips. “That is.  I thought.”</p>
<p>Crowley shook his head. “Suppose it was bound to happen, leaving you unattended in a forest for more than thirty seconds.  At least it wasn’t a lion this time.”</p>
<p>“I never--” Aziraphale frowned when Crowley’s brows shot up.  The demon could be so awful about that sharp edge between <i>forgetting</i> and <i>lying</i>. “Oh, it was only the once!  And that was ages ago.  And it was a bear.”</p>
<p>“Wasn’t,” Crowley retorted goodnaturedly, as if his word was at all authoritative on the subject when he’d mistaken the animal for a very lumpy rug and nearly jumped out of his skin when the bear had moved.  He crossed the turf, confident swagger on full display, and dipped precipitously over the blanket. “Shove off, you.”</p>
<p>The grass snake flattened herself out against Aziraphale’s chest at the same time she was very determinedly pretending she couldn’t hear him, and Crowley’s jaw dropped slightly.</p>
<p>“Of all the blessed <i>nerve</i>!” He drew himself up to his full height and glared down at the little snake. “He’s an angel, not a heat rock.”</p>
<p>“You mustn’t shout at her,” Aziraphale scolded. “It’s not as if she’s done anything wrong.”</p>
<p>“Not even sneaking up on you while you were asleep?” Crowley snorted.  His eyes narrowed as he focused on the snake’s belly. “It’s denning season, too.  Probably lucky she hasn’t laid eggs in your pockets or something.  Go find a rubbish heap and stop bothering people just out for a picnic, you little freeloader.” </p>
<p>Aziraphale gently scooped the snake up in his hands, then sat up carefully.  The snake’s tail curled around his thumb, and he smiled sadly.  It had been such a nice illusion, while it had lasted. “May you find a beautiful garden with a perfect compost heap and plenty of…”</p>
<p>He glanced at Crowley in silent question.</p>
<p>“Toads,” the demon supplied, exasperation coloring his voice.</p>
<p>“Plenty of toads to eat.” Aziraphale set her down on the grass, and she shot a reproachful look at Crowley before slithering off.</p>
<p>“I can’t believe you wasted a blessing on that little viper.” Crowley paused, tilting his head in consideration. “Though I guess it could have been worse, at that.  Pocket full of snakelets, courtesy of a real viper.  Probably insist on keeping them, too, knowing you.  Never got the point of evolving eggs if you’re just going to go around having litters after all, but that’s British reptiles for you--no manners.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale refrained from asking if Crowley was including himself in that assessment, reaching for a glass instead.</p>
<p>“Sorry it took so long,” Crowley said, handing both of them over. “Knew I had a spare drinks kit in the boot, just couldn’t remember which panel the box was behind.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale popped the cork and filled the flutes, and Crowley flopped unceremoniously onto the blanket before taking his.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t asleep,” Aziraphale said quietly.  He sipped the wine and watched the breeze play through the trees around them.</p>
<p>“Oh, of course not,” Crowley agreed, scoffing.  He took a sip and held the champagne in his mouth for a moment, letting it warm on his tongue, and his eyes took on that mellow gloss Aziraphale had always loved best.  Crowley enjoying himself was a beautiful creature indeed.  The demon swallowed and licked his lips. “Satan, that’s a good vintage.”</p>
<p>“I thought you’d like it.” Aziraphale hadn’t been able to cover his smile when he’d seen it in the basket, not after the artless nonchalance Crowley had been affecting when he’d pestered Aziraphale for a recommendation last week.</p>
<p><i>If you could only have one sort for the rest of the year, what would it be?</i> followed quickly by <i>Oh, no reason, just wondering.</i></p>
<p>“You do have excellent taste.” Crowley took another sip and leaned back on one elbow, and it felt like the expanse of blanket between them could hold an ocean.</p>
<p>“But really, I wasn’t,” Aziraphale told him.</p>
<p>“Of course not, the watchful eye of Heaven never closes,” Crowley agreed drily. “You just decided to let a snake snuggle up in your cravate for kicks.”</p>
<p>“I might have made certain assumptions about the identity of the snake in question.” Aziraphale swallowed.  The glass was shaking slightly in his fingers, and he steadied himself.  Crowley was in a good mood.  On the one hand, it would be a shame to ruin it, but on the other… Crowley might pretend it was all a joke, but he wouldn’t be upset, not really.  And if the last decade had shown Aziraphale anything, it was that facing something down was somehow never quite as bad as living in fear of it.</p>
<p>Crowley turned to face him, expression blank and mouth slack. </p>
<p>“You.” His lips moved around half-words and the odd conjoined consonant, vocal cords only occasionally keeping up with his mouth. “When have I <i>ever</i>?  I wouldn’t!  You’d never--”</p>
<p>He sat up, waving his arms about, and Aziraphale wondered if it was a miracle keeping the champagne in his glass or only that it didn’t dare give the demon a focus for his consternation by spilling.  It was a feeling he had some sympathy with, that simultaneous breathlessness of being in the eye of a storm and bafflement at being spectator to a one-demon show.</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s brows furrowed when Crowley’s arms dropped to his sides.</p>
<p>“You’d never…” Crowley tugged at his collar and coughed. “Ah.”</p>
<p>His eyes darted to the grass, in the direction the little snake had slithered off, and then back to Aziraphale’s face.</p>
<p>“You’d...?” Hope and disbelief chased each other through those copper eyes.</p>
<p>Aziraphale held out his hand, trying to keep himself as still as possible otherwise.  Crowley looked away, pink staining his cheeks, and then reached out blindly, barely stifling a small noise when his hand found Aziraphale’s.  The demon’s fingers were all soft skin and delicate bone, and Aziraphale slipped his own between them neatly.  Crowley’s hand tightened on his, and Aziraphale smiled and raised his glass.</p>
<p>“To the world, hmm?”</p>
<p>Crowley mumbled something incomprehensible and raised his own glass, draining it completely as his face darkened.  Aziraphale had never imagined that he’d look so becoming with his cheeks gone scarlet.</p>
<p>Crowley let out a little hiss of a breath and let the pad of his thumb trace the back of Aziraphale’s knuckles, and a thrill of pleasure lit up Aziraphale’s nerves.</p>
<p>“I was beginning to think you didn’t want to,” Aziraphale said, when he was sure he could trust his voice.</p>
<p>“Didn’t think it was on the table,” Crowley mumbled, still not looking at him.  </p>
<p>Aziraphale hummed to himself and clasped Crowley’s hand in his, and Crowley dropped his glass.</p>
<p>“Guess that’s a yes, then.” Crowley sounded about ready to swallow his tongue, and Aziraphale couldn’t help a small chuckle.</p>
<p>“Yes, my dear, that’s very much a yes.”</p>
<p>The noise Crowley made at that was clearly pleased, if at a somewhat higher pitch than Aziraphale had expected, and he finally managed a glance at Aziraphale’s face.</p>
<p>“You’re glowing.”</p>
<p>“Can you blame me?” Aziraphale laughed. “It’s not too much, is it?”</p>
<p>“Nah, it’s…” Crowley really looked at him, face softening and shoulders loosening, and Aziraphale wanted to kiss him. “It’s nice.  Never really saw it enough, you happy like this.”</p>
<p>Crowley squeezed his hand, then fumbled for his glass.  He raised it, empty as it was, and managed a shy grin.</p>
<p>“To us.”</p>
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